Of Bears and Bulls
by tealeeches
Summary: After the battle at Hoover Dam, Courier Six finds her way back to the Divide, having no other place to go. Her and Ulysses develop a strange, ambiguous relationship over time. Rated Mature for violence/gore, strong language, potential triggers, and eventual adult content. Lily is mine, Ulysses and FNV belong to Bethesda. Can now be found on the Kink Meme!
1. Present

It had been a gruesome, painful week. Her trek back to the Divide proved to be the most daunting task she had ever taken on: but she felt obligated to deliver Ulysses the present she acquired after the battle at Hoover Dam. No one bothered to attack her, not even the remnants of the Legion. Despite the pain in her shoulder and lack of sleep, she pressed on through the canyon wreckage, passed the snide remarks written by the other courier on the sheets of rusted metal. The sound of the metal twisting as she moved through the maze made her nauseous, or maybe it was infected stab wound Vulpes had so lovingly graced her with. Perhaps, it was the fever that accompanied it . . . or all three. She really couldn't remember what it was that made her cringe at the sound. Then again, there was a lot she couldn't remember.

Slowly, the vast expanse of the Divide appeared before her. The lights on the tall radio towers flickered. Hopeville remained quiet as ever, nearly hidden under the cover of the red dust storm that was typical for the time of day. The wind quickly picked up as she exited the narrow canyon, whipping her hair around her face and shoulders. Her pace slowed as she came to the edge: her heart stopped, breathing quickened. The shadow that usually graced the overlook was not present. Ulysses the sorrowful, sarcastic vigilant had disappeared. A disgruntled, pained moan escaped the sixth courier's mouth as she sunk down in the spot Ulysses sat most often.

"Well, Caesar," she said, setting the Legionnaires mummifying head down beside her, pronouncing his name as the Frumentarii did, "our journey has now been made a few hours longer thanks to this jackass."

She rummaged through her bag and pulled out her canteen, taking a few sips before pouring the rest over the festering infection that kissed her shoulder. The water mixed with the dried blood on her shirt, causing the reddish stain to seep further into the fibers. She winced and groaned: out of stims, med-x, and now out of water.

"At least you're shitty skull doesn't smell anymore," she laughed, dropping the head into her bag. She was tired, and sick. _Really sick_. In fact, she wasn't sure if anything could calm her fever, even if she did find Ulysses.

The courier slowly stood and stretched the best she could before venturing into the Hopeville silo bunker.

* * *

She let her eyes adjust as the steel door closed behind her: everything looked just as she left it, with the exception of a few more dead marked-men that had been killed by Ulysses. Blood and more of the man's snarky messages covered the metallic walls. Courier Six made her way through the bunker, being careful not to trigger any of the traps the ex-legionnaire had placed. A rigged shotgun here, mine-field there, grenade bouquet . . . she was getting panicky from having to maneuver around so many hostile weapons . . . and the heat: the heat was becoming unbearable. The more frustrated and warm she became, the more she panicked. A dead marked-man she stumbled on twitched, startling her. Ulysses had recently passed through here. She quickly took the butt of her rifle and smashed the body's skull in, making sure it was, in fact, dead. The farther into the bunker she ventured, the more agitated she became: a crying spell here, a fit of rage there: anywhere there wasn't a trap set, she turned into a war zone, throwing books and tools as she looked for any sign of where the vigilant had gone. Each room became smaller and smaller. She felt like a caged animal ready to be slaughtered, sweat dripping from her brow like a stuck pig.

"I'll fucking kill him. I swear I will."

* * *

She stumbled out of the bunker and onto the roof of a building. The sun's glow blinded her for a split second. Hopeville had seen better days: days she couldn't recall, though she was sure she had been present for many of them. Many of the barracks were still intact, as well as some of the brick buildings that once were homes to general stores and markets. The courier scanned the horizon. Nothing but dust. She made her way to the edge of the roof. Upon further study, she spotted the vigilant, backed up against a wall by a pretty mean looking deathclaw. It looked like it was slowly sharpening its claws, taunting Ulysses with an inevitable death. She sighed and drew her pistol, unable to hold her rifle properly.

She whistled loudly and shouted, "Hey, fuck-ass!"

With a single shot, a bullet was sent spiraling through the distracted and drooling beast's skull, reducing it to a heaping mass on the ground.

"Lily . . ." Ulysses whispered, studying the figure at the top of the building in awe. The slightly emaciated, tall girl was holding something above her head. Her red hair, longer than it was at the time of their first meeting, was lit up from the back as it flew around. He never thought he'd actually be _happy_ to see the girl.

"I . . . brought you . . . a present," she yelled with what she had left in her fragile core, voice cracking, "the head of Caesar."

Ulysses slowly walked toward the makeshift ramp that twisted around the building, unsure of what to think about this "present." He could see the weakness in her body language. His pace quickened, but Lily collapsed on the roof, dropping the head and her gun far before he could make it to the top of the building.

* * *

**This is my first ever fan-fiction I've posted on here, and the first I've written in a long while. I really do hope you enjoy this, and the chapters that are to come. I decided to write this because there are so few well written Ulysses stories and his personality has so much potential to be expanded upon. My courier, Lily, is probably my most developed character and I'm super excited to finally be working with her. So, if anyone would like to actually see the full development, I'd be happy to publish it.**


	2. Waking

**Possible trigger warning.**

* * *

The room harbored the faint smell of soil and rotting wood. The moon cast beams of light through small holes in the curved roof. A small light flickered from the table, causing shadows to dance across the walls and melt onto the floor. Lily, awakening from what seemed to be an eternal dream, turned her head to the source of the lamp. She wasn't sure of where she was, but she wasn't in harms way, and she was . . . comfortable. Her head rested on a couple of pillows and a thin, mostly intact blanket was tucked around her body. She examined her surroundings through sleep encrusted eyes.

Various pre-war propaganda was plastered on nearly every inch of the wall, dark curtains shielded the interior from the horrors outside, and furniture was carelessly placed in an attempt to make the area more house-like. The male courier sat in a chair facing the desk, leaning on it with his head propped against the palm of his hand. He casually skimmed through a tattered magazine. Lily examined the form, curious of his casualness: something she'd never witnessed before. He was just flipping through the pages of an old-world relic, reading what peaked his interests, but Lily was no less intrigued by the simple act. Seeing the usually tense man slumped over a desk made her happy knowing that he was still very much a normal human being rather than a crazed, grief stricken barbarian out for blood.

Courier Six shifted and propped herself up on her elbow. Her hair was plastered to her face and she was half naked, but she didn't have a fever and her shoulder didn't hurt as much. She slightly twisted to get a better look at her surroundings. At the opposite end of the room, there was a small kitchen with a stove and a refrigerator, both probably broken, but salvageable. A bed roll was tossed beside the bed she occupied and was covered with a mess of sheets, clothing, and random supplies.

_"He's been sleeping beside me?"_ she thought, leaving her more curious. Then, she remembered, vaguely, Ulysses lying there reading one night. She'd rolled onto her side and made some kind of inhuman noise, prompting him to give her a dose of med-x and to change her bandages. She tried to pry more from her shot memory. An attempt to drink water. A gentle hand brushing the hair from her sweaty face, then resting on her arm. _She was Hopeville_, for however many days she'd been unconscious.

"You're awake, courier?" Ulysses grunted, closing one magazine and reaching for another.

"I have a name . . . _other courier_," Lily sarcastically replied, sitting up and folding her legs.

"_Lily . . ._" the man jeered in the same manner, causing her to laugh despite the dull pain that was slowly finding its way through her body. He smirked, though she couldn't see.

"How long was I out?"

"Three days. Maybe four."

"Maybe four? That's reassuring."

"You lose track after tending to an infection."

"Sorry . . ." she mumbled.

"Why did you come here in that condition?"

"I . . . I don't know? To show you that I killed that bastard? To prove I was capable of it after you'd doubted me numerous times?"

The male courier sighed, "I never doubted."

There was a long silence between the two couriers. Lily was lost to her own devices, still trying to figure out what had occurred over the past three . . . four days. She couldn't have been asleep for four days total. She hadn't, and she knew that. Cramped and mildly confused, she maneuvered her way off of the bed, wrapping the dark green blanket around herself. She wandered around the room a bit, determining that it was once a mess hall. She peeked out the windows: it was very much late at night. She took a jab at the stove. It needed new wiring, of course, but wasn't beyond repair. The fridge still worked, surprisingly: maybe Ulysses had fixed it. She finally came to a rest, sitting at the table in the makeshift kitchen with a bottle of water. Irradiated or not, she didn't know, nor did she care. Either way, she expected to throw it right back up.

"There's a shower back there. It's cold, but it works," Ulysses finally said, causing the girl to jump and spill some of her water.

"Oh, okay," she said, standing and capping the bottle. She turned slightly before scurrying around the corner into the small room, "And . . . thanks for, well . . . you know . . ."

Ulysses shook his head and grinned. He had no idea how such a clumsy, uncomfortable girl could have severed the great Caesar's head and massacred the Legion. The water cut on and he heard a shriek. It was, in fact, cold . . . like he had said. He thumbed through a book: something about a time far before their own. Romance. Drama. Tragedy. Inevitably uninteresting to him. He closed the book and placed it aside, then reached for another.

* * *

Lily sat on the floor of the shower, knees brought to her chest. The water jetting out from the shower-head was bitter cold and more than likely filled with rust and radiation. Her skin felt like it was crawling, but that could have just been from moving about after four days of unconsciousness. She stretched her arms out in front of her and began counting scars, tracing her slender fingers over them like they were train tracks. She had counted close to three-hundred once: that was a long time ago. Some were caused by happenings in the Mojave, most were her own doing. They overlapped and crisscrossed. Some were long, dark, and gruesome, others: short and faded, mere specks. After reaching one-hundred, she gave up and stood, bracing herself with her hand on the tiled wall. She quickly washed, dried herself with her blanket, and dressed after replacing her bandages. Something strange then occurred to her as she fussed with the knots in her hair, staring into the mirror.

_"Whose shirt is this?"_ she asked herself. It wasn't her's. I could have been a shirt Ulysses had on him. It could have been taken off of a dead guy or found in a footlocker. She grumbled and stormed into the main room. She rummaged around for her shirt, finding it in her pack still caked with dried blood, dirt, and bug guts. Quickly, she threw it into the sink in the kitchen area and began to scrub it with Abraxo. Nothing would ever permanently remove the stain, but she could lighten it. She mumbled and sang very quietly to herself to forget _the blood . . . the rangers . . . the maniacal screams emitted from Caesar's mouth as she beheaded him alive_.

Ulysses examined her from the corner of his eye. She was tall and thin, her hip-bones slightly jutting out past her abdomen. Fragile, but strong and composed. He wanted to break her in half with his bare hands, and yet, he wanted to shelter her from any wasteland horrors. He quickly decided that he'd do neither and leave her be, for a time.


	3. Starved

**Possible trigger warning. I'm also introducing a new character who I'm going to be elaborating on in one shots between him and Lily whenever I hit a block with this. He plays no actual part in this particular fic.**

* * *

_"Lily . . . please . . ." the ranger whispered. He was pained, but if he was afraid, there was no sign. The Fort was beginning to burn around the two. The now freed slaves were screaming and shouting, gathering what they could. The ranger, Thomas Jace, payed no attention, focusing on Lily as she tried to stabilize him._

_"No no no no. You'll be fine. You're fine. You'll make it."_

_"Summers. Lily Summers, listen to me . . ." the male ranger touched her arm._

_"No! I'm not doing it! We'll get you out of here now, and you'll be okay!"_

_But he wasn't simply "okay." Blood quickly flowed from the wound in his chest and collected at the corner of his mouth. Lily simply looked at him, swallowing her tears._

_"Just do it . . . or I'll do it myself." the man growled._

_Slowly, Lily responded, taking him into her thin arms, holding him like she's never done to anyone. She cocked her pistol, bringing it to rest just behind the ranger's ear. He let out a struggled, but content sigh._

_"I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry . . ."_

_She pulled the trigger and held him a second longer before he simply evaporated into the air._

_Alone again: mumbling, crying, slowly bleeding out in her Novac apartment._

* * *

Lily gasped and shot straight up from her bed, covered in a cold sweat. She was still in the old mess hall. Everything was as it had been before she fell asleep, but it was lighter: perhaps around noon. She sat and waited a few minutes before she got up in an attempt to shake off the feeling of guilt and anxiety her dream had given her. She stood and staggered over to the table in the kitchen, feeling sick and dizzy.

Ulysses had been up far before her. He rummaged through cupboards, completely ignoring his company. Whether he wanted to ignore her or not, he wasn't sure. He had a growing pile of pre-war food and MREs on the counter, and he somehow kept finding more. He could hear Lily shifting in her chair behind him: scratching, kicking her legs, fidgeting. Ulysses cleared his throat and her movement ceased. He rose from his crouched position, leaning back slightly to crack his back.

The both were silent. Neither knew what to say. It'd been about a week since Lily had arrived back in Hopeville, and they'd spoken maybe four times total.

Ulysses coughed and spoke, "You were . . . poking around the stove the other day."

"Uh . . . uhm, yeah. Kind of," Lily croaked, still half asleep.

"Think you could fix it?"

"It needs new wiring, and probably a new heating coil."

Ulysses nodded and grabbed a box of snack cakes from the pile of food. "You should eat something."

Lily stuttered, "I . . . I'm really not hungry."

The male courier scowled, "When did you last eat?"

"I don't remember. I'm not hungry."

He tossed the box onto the table, "You're going to starve to death."

"The first time we met, you wanted to kill me, and now you're playing grandma?" she scoffed, standing up and pushing her chair in. She knew she was angering him. "I don't understand your motives. Keeping me alive longer so you can try to kill me later?"

Ulysses couldn't hold it in and he quickly found his hands wrapped tightly around the girl's wrists. To his dismay, she didn't flinch, or even move. She just stared at him, fire burning in her eyes. He spoke quickly in whispers, "I can see you damned rib-cage."

"If you didn't want me to finish myself off, maybe you should've done the honor. Didn't you want me dead?"

She sounded cold, and her words stung him a little. She was broken and beaten, just as he was. His grip on her loosened and he ran his thumb over her wrist: damaged and scabbed.

"Maybe," Ulysses snapped as she pulled away from him.

"I'm not stopping you."

She turned her back to him and gathered her rifle, swinging it around to her shoulder.

"I should've let that fucking monster filet you," she mumbled to herself as she swung the door open, stepping outside.

Ulysses growled in frustration, throwing his back to the wall. Metallic thuds and bumping echoed throughout the domed building.

_"She's climbing onto the roof . . ."_ he thought, rubbing his temple. A damned argument over her calling him a "grandmother." She was strange, lanky, and a bit hot-headed, but her movements were fluid and she was sharp, even if she'd only poked fun at him acting like an elderly woman. She could probably kill him with words before she drew blood. And if she drew blood, he knew he wouldn't stand a chance.

She worried him._ She was him._ Only she knew of his existence.

* * *

Lily sat on the the roof, pumping shots into the occasional deathclaw that got too close for comfort. The beasts would hiss in pain and creep away. It was calming to her, considering shooting things was all she'd done over the past six months or so. She was so enthralled by the sounds her rifle made, she didn't notice her male counterpart making his way over the roof, sitting a few feet from her.

"Look, cour-" Ulysses was cut off by the girl's gun blasting, firing a twirling bullet into the skull of a deathclaw. "Lily, I'm . . . sorry. You were joking."

"No, I wasn't. You were acting like a grandmother. That's what they do, right? Try to force feed their grandchildren," she explained, still sounding distant. The two sat for a while, contemplating their surroundings. "I had a nightmare."

Ulysses just nodded, not questioning her any longer, knowing what had set her off. Instead, he asked, "Why are you here?"

"I had nowhere else to go. I knew that here, I'd either be welcomed or murdered," she explained, scanning the horizon through her scope. That was the end of that conversation. She had a death wish that he wasn't going to grant her. She knew he wouldn't, as well.

"We should try to find some parts to fix the stove," the male courier suggested.

"I guess so," she agreed, leaning back on one hand, gun resting in the other. She closed her eyes. Ulysses studied her. She was as relaxed as she could ever be, given her usual state was either tense and alert or confused and stumbling across the room. The freckles on her face were darker than he remembered, slowly creeping across her cheeks from the bridge of her nose. She was emaciated, but not as badly as he had previously thought. He'd try one last time before he'd give up.

"Do something for me," he managed.

"What?"

He pulled from one of his pockets the box of snack cakes he'd previously thrown and gently slid it under her hand. She just looked at him, blinking a few times, before picking it up and examining it, reading the faded print. She fought back the intense urge to be snide with him as she pulled one of the cardboard flaps open.

Ulysses stood, peering out over the abandoned town, satisfied as he heard her open one of the cakes. "We'll head out tomorrow."


	4. Twist

"Where did they all come from?" Lily whispered, stalking the marked men through her scope. She and Ulysses watched them go about their business from a distance, rifles peeking over a concrete barrier. The skinned soldiers were camped out at a mostly intact diner that'd already been searched by the courier months in advance.

"Always been here, since before the collapse," he replied, the words burning his tongue.

_Collapse._

"_I know that._ I'm wondering why they keep coming back to the same spots. I cleared this place out the first time I was here, and I'm sure you've cleared it out as well."

"Shifting between outposts, maybe," Ulysses said, aiming and shooting one of the tattered men. Lily mirrored the action and sniped another. Quickly, they took down the small group that was semi-aware of their presence. Determining that there were no others remaining outside the building, the two couriers walked up to the camp, ever vigilant, searching the area for possible survivors

"They look like fucking jerky," Lily mused, searching one of the bodies.

Ulysses snorted, "Radiation and dust storms. Weren't always like that."

Lily gave him a look as if to say, _"No shit."_

The two searched the rest of the fallen marked men, dividing the supplies and ammo they found. The rested for a while, ignoring the piles of rotting gore the former soldiers had been eating. Lily watched the male courier: brooding as he paced. She made no attempt to conceal her observations, letting her eyes scan his form, waiting for him to speak.

"Head inside," he ordered, motioning toward the door. Lily nodded, drawing her pistol and crouching as she opened the door. Ulysses stayed at her heels as they cleared the place, unusually close. There wasn't much inside the building: just a few more of the grotesque men, which Lily took down easily, aiming for their heads and putting them out of their painful, skinless misery. She reveled in the sight of the blood that spurted from their skulls as she sent bullets flying through them.

The couriers searched the building, again, and found more ammo stashed upstairs. Once in the kitchen, Lily got to work dismantling one of the stoves for it's parts.

Ulysses busied himself, blockading the door, setting out their bedrolls. It was almost, domestic.

"We'll camp here tonight. Getting dark," he stated. Courier Six shrugged in agreeance and continued with her work.

"I have wiring, but the heating coil on this one is shot," she mentioned, tossing the wires into her bag as she sat on to her bedroll. Ulysses tossed her a package of freeze-dried apples, which she opened and ate as to avoid another confrontation. They sat, both reading through books and magazines they'd found on the second floor. Repair. Something called _'Soap Operas'_. A newspaper or two. Lily further inspected the man beside her as he read with the same casual look he had when she'd woken up in Hopeville. He looked up, grey eyes meeting her own. She quickly averted her eyes back to the old newspaper she was reading. She could still feel him eyeing her, knowing that he wouldn't stop until she said something. "Can I ask you something?"

Ulysses shrugged, somewhat cautiously agreeing, "I assume so."

"Where . . . how did you get your hair like that . . . twisted, or braided? I don't know."

That was it. That was all she was asking, and she clearly acted as though it might make him rip her arm off. "Knotting it with a comb, twisting it, securing the hair with wax until it matures."

She nodded, still curious and stuttering, "Do . . . you think you could something like that in my hair?"

"They symbolize accomplishments, enemies killed, jobs, family . . . "

The girl's eyes narrowed and she leaned in and reminded him, "_I killed Caesar._ I'm not trying to mock your tribe or you. I know there is symbolism behind them."

She was right. If anything, his tribe would have given her a whole head of the dreads and decorated them with beads and ribbons. He rummaged through his bag to find the necessary tools. "Fine. Not doing your entire head though."

"No! I only wanted one," she smiled in excitement, throwing her newspaper to the side. Smiling was something she didn't do too often. It was strange to him, but not unwelcomed. Quickly, he found the courier sitting between his legs with her own brought up to her chest, arms snaked around her them. He parted a small chunk of her hair behind her heavily pierced ear and slowly began brushing upward with the comb he'd produced from his bag. The strands were soft, gliding between his fingers, and more red in the light produced by the fixture on the ceiling. He finished off the new, still puffy dread with old-world wax and a tied a string he'd use to tie his own if one started to become loose at the base.

"There," he said as he finished tying the sting. "Won't look like mine for a while. Must mature a bit."

Lily stood, stretched, and thanked him before returning to salvage from the stoves.

* * *

**Ulysses fluff isn't even fluff. It's him awkwardly agreeing to do something for the courier that requires them to be closer than he'd like.**

**I understand that my Lily might be be kind of confusing in the sense that she is really clumsy/awkward sometimes, but overall she's extremely alert and eloquent and can be really violent and terrifying. She's depressed and reserved, but like all people, there are times when she laughs despite everything. I don't think I've elaborated on this enough yet, but I will be in the future.**


	5. Stories

"Ulysses, tell me a story," Lily chirped.

The two couriers were on their way back to Hopeville, walking side by side in an awkward silence. A dust storm had descended upon them, red and cruel. Both were now wearing scarves around their heads and masks. Courier Six didn't seem to mind though. She happily bounced along the deteriorating road, with supplies to fix the stove.

"No," the male courier scoffed, fixing his mask. A hurt look quickly took over Lily's face. It was almost as if he'd scolded her like a child. He was fascinated at how quickly her mood could shift.

"Why not?"

"We are in the middle of a dust storm. Could be attacked at any minute," he said blandly.

"I . . . was just thinking it could help take our minds off of the threat of possibly being killed."

He snorted, "What do you want me to tell you? A story about how everything is fine and nothing hurts?"

"Quoting Vonnegut now? No. I was actually wondering if you knew anything about my parents."

At that moment, for a split second, Ulysses saw a glint of hope in her. _She wanted to remember something._ She was cultured, intelligent, could pick up on anything that escaped his throat if she wanted. It sparked something in him, and _he wanted to help her_ more than anything. At least for the time being.

"_Slight_ quotation," he corrected. "Don't know much. Saw them toting you around sometime. Last I saw them was when I returned here after leaving the Legion."

"What'd my mother look like?"

He shifted his pack to his other shoulder and shrugged, "Not much like you. Brunette, short, but a pretty face nonetheless."

He'd subliminally complemented Lily, and he mentally beat himself for it. Though she and her mother didn't share many features, they did share the same intense, stormy, dark blue eyes. Lily didn't seem to notice the complement.

"What about my father?"

"Red-headed, tall and thin, much like yourself. Spent more time around him."

"What was he like?"

"Kind man. Patient. Witty. Had a knack for tinkering with everything, and old-world music."

"He liked music?"

"Yes," Ulysses was growing impatient with all of the questions the girl shot at him. "Had an old record player he fixed up. A few records too."

"What's a _record_?"

He sighed, "It's a thin disk with grooves in it. When placed on a record player, a needle run across it as it spins, creating music."

Lily was completely enthralled with the concept. A disk that made music. "I'd like to see that."

"Don't know what happened to it," he lied. She didn't notice. Ulysses knew where it was, and it worked, even after his world was destroyed. He figured she wouldn't be angry if they did ever come across it again, sitting in an old house that was nearly in the same condition as it was before the Divide was destroyed.

"Oh."

Their conversation ceased for a moment. Dust settled on their bodies as the storm died. Their coats fluttered behind them, beaten by the wind. A small band of marked men camped a short ways from the two, but ignored them: treating the pair as ghosts. It still made Lily uneasy. She kept her pistol in hand, just in case.

"What happened to them?" she whispered, mostly to herself as she stuffed a new magazine into the gun.

Ulysses responded to the question willingly, "Left before the collapse. NCR and Legion were fighting over the area. Didn't want to deal with either I guess."

"So . . . they might still be alive," she concluded. She hoped they were, or at least one of them. They probably had stories to tell, and she had ones of her own. She wanted to apologize for leaving, for worrying them. She wanted to thank them, though she couldn't remember why.

"Maybe. Alive and well. Dead. Feral. Slaves."

Lily scowled, "Way to destroy my hopes and dreams."

Hopes. Dreams. _She had hopes and dreams._ The man grumbled a nearly inaudible apology after remember how rare of an occasion it was for her to want to remember something.

"What was I like? You know, when I was younger?"

"Vibrant. Intelligent. Clung to your father. Loved him."

Lily caught onto the unintended compliment this time and smiled to herself, then thought about what he'd said. Intelligent.

_I-n-t-e-l-l-i-g-e-n-t._ She spelled the word over and over in her head, hearing it in the man's voice. But, that was the only word she could attach meaning to. She was vibrant and lively? She loved her father? No. She wasn't capable of it. "Love is a strong word."

The couriers now stood at the door of the mess hall they inhabited. They hadn't been attacked, murdered, or eaten. Ulysses stopped and removed his mask. He placed a gentle hand on Lily's shoulder and turned her to face him, staring into her eyes. She still had her mask on, covering her chapped, bowed lips and nose. Freckles peaked over the edge of the mask. Most of her hair was stashed underneath her scarf, though a few chunks escaped and were coated in a thin layer of dust. He continued to surprise himself, growing bolder with every passing minute. He reassured her in the most genuine, compassionate way he could. _"You loved him."_

* * *

**Original Kurt Vonnegut quotation from Slaughterhouse Five: "Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."**

**Sorry, not sorry.**

**THIS WILL BE UPDATED TOMORROW.**


	6. Courier

**Possible trigger warning. Sorry this took so long to update! I hit a block, and then quickly wrote the rest of this. The next chapter will be a lot longer and a lot better. Promise.**

* * *

"It works!" Lily shouted excitedly, smiling again. Ulysses couldn't help but smile with her. She was so ecstatic over fixing the stove. "It's only that one burner, but it works!"

"In that case, won't have to eat cold shit," the male courier replied. Lily looked baffled, staring at his form sitting on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him. "What is it?"

She laughed as she sat a pot of water on the burner, "Nothing."

"What is it, courier?"

She hated that "pet name." Squinty eyed with arms crossed, she repeated, "It's nothing."

Ulysses rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Courier."

"I swear, if you call me '_courier'_ one more time I will gut you like a bloatfly, Ulysses. I have heard you say the word 'shit' maybe twice. It's interesting."

"_Should I test my luck,"_ he questioned himself and grinned. "That's all I was wondering . . . _courier_."

"Fucking Christ," Lily sneered. She bounded quickly across the room and jumped onto her counterpart, forcing him to the floor. He really hadn't expected it. In a matter of only a few seconds, she had him pinned, straddled across his waist with her forearm placed lightly over his throat with a smirk painted on her lips. She wasn't serious this time around. "I kid you not, I will gut you."

Without thinking her grabbed and overpowered her, trapping her underneath him. She didn't squirm or resist. She just laughed and pushed him back to their original stance. She somehow had produced a combat knife and had it pointed at his chest.

"I'll do it."

"Hell you will," he grunted. "Where did that come from?"

"My boot. You didn't even notice. Want to doubt my previous threat now?"

He snorted and pushed Lily off of him. "Didn't do it."

"See it as a warning." She picked herself up after sliding the knife back into her boot and dashed back to the stove, water now bubbling over the side of the pot. She turned the heat down and added noodles to it. They slowly expanded throughout the water as she whisked a fork through them. Ulysses carefully tread up to stand next to her.

"Know I could kill you, right?" he teased. This would probably become an ongoing joke between them.

"And I could do the same to you. If I ever feel like being maimed and horrifically disfigured, I know where to go."

He smirked and chided as he touched her arm, "You already do that to yourself, Lily."

She flinched. "Maimed by another person."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why this?" he asked, tracing the scabs and scars.

"Ulysses, that is really none of your business." She pulled away with the pot of noodles in hand. Quickly, she moved them to two bowls and added whatever flavoring powder they came with to each. She placed them on the table and sat in her chair. Ulysses mirrored her action.

"Like to understand," he mumbled, twirling the food around his fork.

"There's nothing to understand."

"Sure there is."

"They are there to help me forget, and remind."

"Makes no sense."

"I suppose so. But they're there now and aren't going away."

"But why?"

"You're really going to push it, aren't you? I just told you," she snapped before stuffing a wad of noodles into her mouth. She didn't seem mad, exactly. More frustrated: boxed up suddenly.

Ulysses let out a frustrated grunt. They finished their dinner in silence, only taking quick glances at each other from across the table, narrow eyed and prying.

Lily finished before the other courier and tossed her bowl into the sink. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

She threw herself onto the bed and pulled the blankets over her. She stared up at the ceiling for a good while before Ulysses sat on his bedroll. She ignored him as he stripped his boots, duster and jeans before laying down. Silence. It left her trapped by her own thoughts.

"Lily, please tell me," Ulysses asked. Courier Six was amused. He was begging her for answers, the ways he'd made her beg. She turned onto her side and propped her head on her hand.

"For the same damned reason you wanted to kill me," she whispered. With that she turned her back to him and resumed her attempts to fall asleep.

The same reason? She's hurt? And broken? And is trying to fix it? That was a no-brainer. _But why take it out on herself?_ Because she couldn't bring herself to blame another. She was unlike him in that way. She wasn't innocent by any means, but she was good at heart. Pure. Simple, but brutal. Ulysses hated that, and he wanted more of it. Lily was definitely something different, and he wasn't going to let something so unique perish from his grasp.

* * *

The morning arrived much too slowly. Lily tossed and turned throughout the night, plagued by more nightmares.

Screams.

Blood.

Twisting metal.

Her sleep cycle was on repeat with the nightmares. The only time she ever got peace was when she blacked out from consuming a bit too much whiskey. When she finally grew too restless, she propped herself up. Ulysses was nowhere to be found.

"_Maybe I scared him away,"_ she thought as she sat up, feet on the floor. Right on queue, the male courier walked around the corner from the small bathroom. She sighed, partially in discontent, partially still caked in sleep. She gawked at him, and then noticed he had packed both his and her bags.

"Get dressed," he ordered as he adjusted his duster and ammo pouches.

"Wha—why?" she questioned.

"We're leaving."

"Where?"

"Wherever."

She was now wide awake and dressing hastily. "Damn it, Ulysses. Where the fuck are we going? This is not, by any means, okay. I kid you not, I will fuck you up so badly—"

"Want to show you something."

"Show me what?!" Courier Six demanded.

Ulysses stood tall, a few feet from her. "Something you'll appreciate, or despise."

"What!?" Lily moaned. Her counterpart handed her her bag and rifle. and started to the door.

"It'll take awhile to get there. Hope you're not opposed to walking."

"_Stop being deceptive._ Where are you taking me?"

"Your home."


	7. Affection

**Finally! I am so sorry for taking so long with this. I literally just stared at it for two weeks. Hopefully I'll be able to keep up with it now. Please just keep in mind I have classes and coursework, so, it may take longer than usual to get a chapter up, but not as long as this one took!**

* * *

The two couriers were now traversing the Divide, moving away from their base of operations. Lily hadn't had time to tie her boot laces as she was rushed outside. She found herself tripping over them from time to time, yet, Ulysses wouldn't stop or acknowledge her presence. The sun hadn't even touched the horizon when they left. She didn't know what she had in her pack: her counterpart could've packed C-4 bricks in it with the intentions of blowing her up once far enough away from Hopeville. Then again, they had been walking all morning. She couldn't even make out the ruins, even if she tried.

"Ulysses," she scoffed, "can we _please_ stop so I can tie my shoelaces?"

He continued walking, kicking up red dust.

"Ulysses!?"

Nothing.

"Damnit! Fuck you, fuck your life, fuck me, fuck my life, fuck this little adventure. Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck. Fuck everything!" Lily yelled into the atmosphere. She threw her pack down and stopped following. She took her time tying her laces, and then stood in the middle of the desert, sweating and wanting to die. Slowly, realizing she wouldn't go any further without a response, the other courier stopped and slowly turned on his heel.

"Quite a mouth on you. We might be able to make it there by sunset if we—_you_, don't stop again."

"You need to tell me where the fuck we are going or so help me—"

"Let me see your Pip-boy."

Lily grunted and held out her right arm in annoyance.

"This is where we are. This is where we are going," he pointed at the vague markers, which appeared to be about twenty-five miles apart.

"Why?"`

"Further up North. Cooler. Don't think it's irradiated. You'll probably like it better."

"Now," Lily said, "when the fuck did this turn into something about me?"

"Always has been. Keep moving," Ulysses carried on ahead of her.

"Wait—what? How is this about me?"

"Miserable."

"I'm always miserable."

The male courier snorted, "You want to continue to be so?"

"It doesn't matter what I want."

He brushed her off and continued to lead across the desert like a slave driver. She'd never seen this part of the Divide. It was a vast expanse of dirt and rocks and just a few cacti. She dragged her heels, scuffing the dirt, and observing the man leading her through the fabled Death Valley. High above the desert, the sun heated the two. She felt her cheeks being scorched. She studied Ulysses more closely: briskly walking, coat fluttering around his calves, tense, focused, determined. They walked for miles and miles. Lily occasionally checked her map, and it seemed like they were nowhere close to their destination. By dusk, the two had come to a stop, looking over a canyon. On the other side, a small town was settled. Little houses dotted the area. Fences. Ruined cars. A few brahmin could be made out.

"Does anyone live there?" Lily whispered.

"Yes. Remnants of the Divide and their kin," Ulysses grunted before taking a swig from his canteen.

"And that's where we're going?"

"Yes."

"Uhm—how?"

"There's a cave to the West that leads down into the canyon. Path up to the village. We should keep moving. No way we're making it there tonight."

"Wait!" Lily spurted as she jogged to catch up with the man who was now walking along the edge of the canyon, "Where are we camping then?"

"The cave."

They kept walking, and walking, and walking. She knew she had blisters on her feet. Blisters on blisters. Blisters on calluses. Blisters on places she didn't even know could be the host to a blister. Sunburn. Sweat. Dirt on her face and in her hair. She looked like a vagrant from Freeside. She felt like one.

"Quiet," Ulysses whispered, crouching. They'd reached the cave. Musty. Old. Collapsing. Old, ruined office buildings had seemingly just appeared around them.

"What?"

"Might be tunnelers in here. Probably are into the actual cave."

She nodded and took hold of her pistol.

"Listen. If you see any burrow openings, there are a few bricks of C-4 in your bag. Drop them in. When we reach the safehouse, we'll collapse the tunnels."

Lily nodded again, then realized that her previous thought was true. C-4 in her bag. But, she had the detonator. Slowly, she followed at Ulysses' heels through the halls and rubble. She instinctively checked any cabinets and boxes they ran across for supplied. A stimpack here, a small box of food there. Bandages and the like. They were apparently in an old medical clinic. She divided the supplies the best she could, secretly giving Ulysses the lion share. He could take care of himself. So could she, but her counterpart was clearly better with medicine than she. She figured that he'd be better equipped to patch her up if a tunneler mangled her. Soon enough, they were faced with a poorly lit cavern.

Ulysses grabbed her hand and pulled her closer behind him, "Stay close."

She was relieved the darkness shielded her red cheeks, red face: possibly as red as her hair. She was suddenly giddy like a young teenager, until he released her hand and drew his rifle. The sound of dripping water echoed around them. Rustling noises below. Tiny glow worms, working together, created a miniature galaxy above. The two moved through the corridors, like the system was an old castle lost and found. More scurrying could be heard below. Lily grew nervous and cocked her pistol. Ulysses pressed his finger to his lips, motioning for complete silence. A large, earthen room opened up before them.

"Shit," Lily mumbled. The entrances to burrows speckled the ground, green fumes radiating from them.

"Listen," the male courier spoke, "we're going to try to get through here as quickly as possible. Take the C-4, drop them down the burrows. The safe-house is on the other side of the cavern. Okay?"

Lily nodded and swallowed.

Slowly, they tiptoed through the gauntlet, tossing the explosives down the holes in the ground. They could hear the creatures below, examining the packs, sensing their presence. Lily quickly glanced behind her, catching one of the creatures in the corner of her eye.

"Ulysses," she said, "I think they know we're here."

He shushed her, "Yes. Don't pay attention to them."

Within seconds, they were swarming around, snorting, grunting, testing the air with their tongues. She couldn't not pay attention. Their stench gagged her, made her eyes water. "Ulysses—"

"Run."

And they ran. Not quickly enough. Lily and her counterpart pumped bullets into the tunnelers as they made their way across the chamber. Green guts and limbs were strewn around. Twitching bodies. And yet, more and more attacked from below. Without any notice, one of the hulking brutes grabbed Lily by the ankle and pulled her off her feet, jumping on her.

"Fuck! Ulysses! Get it off me!" she screamed. The tunneler hissed and breathed into her neck. She squirmed, but couldn't get at a good angle to blow its brains out. It clawed at her back, drawing copious amounts of blood, tearing her duster and shirt. Ulysses swung the butt of his rifle into its body, flinging it away. He pulled the courier up and hurried her on top of a ledge. He climbed up after her.

"Are you okay?"

"No," Lily winced.

Ulysses quickly looked behind him. The creatures were trying to figure out how to climb up after them. He set his hand at the side of her head, "Run for that door. I will follow after finishing these last few off."

"You're not coming with me?"

"Said I'll follow after I finished them off. Can't lose you."

She nodded, tears flowing from pain and a strange sickness settling in her stomach.

"Go."

She blinked a few time and then flew toward the door like a madman escaping his asylum. She flung the wooden door open and slammed it behind her. Dark. She could hear screeching and hissing outside. Gunshots. Bellowing. She sat on the floor against a wall for what seemed like hours listening to carnage, wondering if she was alone. Light flooded the room and then disappeared as Ulysses barged in, out of breath.

"Turn on your light."

She obeyed, flicking on the flashlight on her Pip-boy.

"Where's the detonator?"

She quickly fumbled through her bag and produced the mechanism. The other courier took it from her and cracked the door to peer out before squeezing the trigger. A large eruption was produced in the chamber. It shook the walls. Dust and dirt floated down from the ceiling. He turned and grinned at the girl, and then scowled.

"What?" she mumbled and then looked down, seeing the red smeared on the floor. "Oh."

Ulysses quickly got to work lighting the oil lamps in the safe-house. Lily stood to help. "No. Take your coat and shirt off and lay down. We need to treat that."

She didn't fight it. She found her way into another room, undressed and slid her Pip-boy off before throwing herself onto the bedroll inside. Ulysses joined her, sitting down and pulling out various medical tools and supplies. He administered a stimpack to ease the pain and cleaned up the smeared blood on her back to get a better look at the tears.

"Lucky he didn't sever your spinal cord," he claimed, threading a needle. The cuts were deep and still slowly bleeding. She'd make it through this time around. He didn't know what he'd do if she died on him. He'd lose all he had. The only living person who remembered him, his existence, _his history_. She didn't flinch or yell out as he laid the stitches, pulling her wounds closed tightly. "Done. Sit up. Lift your arms."

He ignored her half naked form and spun bandages around her torso.

"Thank you," Lily muttered, laying back down on her stomach, closing her eyes. Ulysses sat at her head, legs crossed. He peered down at the girl, examining her with softened, sleepy eyes. She was young, and yet, scarred and beaten, emotionally torn. He carefully ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it out of her face. A small scar from a bullet kissed her temple. He frowned, but continued stroking the soft, red locks.

He was being . . . affectionate, gentle. He didn't know whether she was awake or not at the time, and he sat beside her, fingers running through her hair, separating knots with much care as he kept watch over her wounds. Lily didn't want him to know she was conscious. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to hold back a smile. Ulysses did, in fact, notice the little smirk. She was awake. It didn't change anything. _He wanted to touch her_, whether she was awake or not.


	8. Key

**Important Note: I have a poll open on my profile relating to a Fallout 3 fic that I'm about to start writing. I'd really appreciate opinions!**

* * *

"_Lily. Lily . . . listen. Lily, look at me. I forgot how starry your eyes are . . . wake up."_

"_No," she demanded. She could see him clearly: hair falling in his dark eyes, that quirky little smile. She hated this. She could easily die and wouldn't think anything of it, all because of this man._

"_Wake up."_

"_No Thomas!"_

_He disappeared. A hallway stretched out around her. Perhaps the basement at Camp McCarran. She spun around, searching for the ranger. She heard footsteps echoing. Boots, with their laces tapping the linoleum. He never tied his boots. She jogged toward the sound. Quicker. Running full speed. The walls disappeared. Black. She turned. The ranger stood in front of her._

"_Do it for me?"_

"_I can't."_

"_Please," he reached out and brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers._

"_No."_

"_You can't go on like this."_

_Lily shrugged._

"_Let go. Wake up."_

_He disappeared again, shifting into a mist and clouding around the courier._

"_Thomas? Thomas!"_

_She closed her eyes. The faint smell of spiced cider filled her nostrils. _

* * *

"Lily?"

"Thomas!?" she gasped and opened her eyes. Ulysses was slightly bent over her. She groaned and rolled over onto her back, feeling an intense pain. "Fuck."

"Don't move too quickly. You'll rip the stitches."

"Christ . . ."

"Need to get moving," the male courier said, stretching as he stood. Lily slowly sat and rubbed her eyes. She could barely remember what had happened the day before. She'd been attacked by a tunneler. She reached for her shirt. It was almost shredded. Mumbling to herself, she rummaged through her pack for an extra shirt. A blue, over-sized, plaid flannel. She stuffed her arms through the cuffed sleeves, then tied the ends just above the waist of her pants, leaving a little strip of skin viewable. She reached for her coat: mangled, torn, destroyed. She threw it onto the ground and decided to leave without it. She slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her rifle. Ulysses quickly grabbed it out of her hands, "I'll carry it. Shouldn't be any critters on the way up. You're too injured to carry so much."

"No."

"Yes."

"Fucking _no_. Give me my gun back."

"Give me your bag then."

"_Fine,"_ she scoffed and traded her bag for her gun. "Where to now?"

"Through the back door."

"Okay," she replied and decided to lead out. Sunlight beamed from underneath the door. She slowly opened it, shielding her eyes from the bright world. As she adjusted, a river appeared before her, flowing calmly through the bottom of the canyon. "Can we cross?"

"This way," Ulysses pushed past her. She followed as quickly as she could. It was oddly cool by the water. Windy and comfortable. They crosses a crudely build bridge, made from planks of wood and rope. It creaked and slightly swayed under their weight, but was nowhere near breaking. She guessed that pack-brahmin crossed here often enough. "Are you okay?"

Lily though for a second, confused at first, "Uhm—yeah. I feel fine."

"You were talking in your sleep. Seemed panicked."

"Oh. Nightmare—not really a nightmare, not really a good dream either."

"Talking to someone. Thomas, I think?"

Her mind stopped, "Y—yeah. Someone I knew. Ranger."

He shrugged, leading her up a twisting path. It was definitely well maintained: the dirt neatly compacted, a few hoofprints. Lily's geiger-counter wasn't freaking out: no radiation. Ulysses was right. Soon enough, they reached the summit of the path and were greeted by a bustling little village, complete with farmers, merchants, children running freely, and cattle. No one paid much attention to Ulysses: the tall, broad-shouldered man armed to the teeth. As for Lily, they were captivated: entranced. She was tall, thin with wide hips swaying naturally as she walked, hair flying behind her. A little scar trailed down the left side of her cheek, right below her eye. She felt like the main attraction in a freak show. The male courier could tell she was growing uncomfortable.

"Pay them no attention. They'll grow used to you. Just curious," he mentioned as he stepped up onto the porch of the village's general store. "Coming in?"

"I guess so," she squeaked, hastily glancing around her. Inside, supplies lined rows of shelves. Dusty, but neatly kept. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, carpets splayed across the floor.

"Horatio?!" Ulysses called as he reached the counter. A little, greying man scurried out from the back room.

"Ulysses, you're back! What can I do for you?" he said grinning, pipe between his teeth.

"Stopping in. I'm looking to gain access to that house in Eastern part of town. The one near the edge of the canyon?"

"Yes, yes," the little man fumbled around inside of drawers behind the counter. "I have the key somewhere. I can probably offer you a discount—"

"Not for me. I've brought Lily."

"What!?"

Lily poked her head out from between the shelves, arms full of gumdrops and sodas, "Did you need me?"

"Is that really you?" Horatio adjusted his spectacles to study her more closely.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met?"

"She was shot in the head. Can't remember much," Ulysses interrupted rudely. The shop owner paid no mind to him and directed his attention to Lily.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. My name is Horatio. Why not put that on the counter?"

Lily scattered the mass of sweets onto the surface, "How do I know you?"

"I was a friend of your parents. Sadly, they aren't here anymore. You're mother passed away a few years ago."

"Oh . . . what of my father? Wait, they lived here?"

"Yes, yes. You lived here! You can't remember anything, can you? Poor girl. Your father left a while back. I think for Baja."

"He's still alive then!"

"Possibly. You never know these days. Mutants, Legion, NCR . . . they're all alike."

Silence.

Ulysses broke in, "The key?"

"Yes, sorry," Horatio said, pulling a small envelope from the drawer, "here it is."

"Lily."

"What?" she asked, already breaking into a box of candy.

Ulysses flashed the envelope in front of her.

"What is it?"

"The key to your house."

"I have a house?"

"Yes. Grab your things."

Lily didn't hesitate and pulled her sweets into her arms and followed him. The two didn't draw as much attention as they had at the time of their arrival.

"Gumdrop?" she offered.

"No."

"It's not like they're poisoned . . ."

"Fine," he grumbled, ripping the box out of her hand.

"Don't be an asshole, Ulysses. I'm just trying to be nice. Fuck."

He didn't reply as he picked through the box, pulling all the green candies out. He was clearly upset, but Lily couldn't decipher why. The two quietly walked side by side toward the rickety house at the edge of the cliff. It sat on short stilts, remarkably preserved. Weathered wood bleached by the sun and coated in a very thin layer of rusty coloured dirt. A fence wrapped around the house, clearly broken in some places. Uprooted mailbox, dry garden, a ruined car.

"Here," Ulysses grunted as he gave Lily the key to the house.

Fumbling with an armful of small boxes and glass bottles, she managed to wiggle the brass key into the slot on the door and slowly pushed forward, opening the small house for the first time in years. It smelled of pine needles and dry aloe vera leaves. Unsettling, but comforting.

"This is what you wanted to show me? This?" she questioned.

"Yes," he said coldly, thinking she was unappreciative. Slowly and surely, he realized that she had a small smile on her face. She glanced at him, looking for reassurance. "I'll set your bag in your room."

"Wait. My room?"

"Unless you'd prefer to sleep on the sofa."

"Sorry. This is all so strange . . ."

"Understandable. Relax."

Lily set her goodies onto a coffee table in the parlor after the male courier fled down the hall. She stood in the middle of the room, still feeling uneasy with arms crossed. It was like a wave hit her: a wave of confusion swamping her with the need to know. Remember. Photos in breaking frames were tacked to the wall. For the first time in years, she saw her mother's soft face, cheek presses against her father's, and a young girl between them. It took her a second to process that the girl was her: red hair more intense than the rock formations in Zion. Shaking, she maneuvered her way through the small home and toward the room Ulysses stood in. She peaked in before fully entering. The walls were coated in old, minty wallpaper and decorated with more photos and drawings. She figured they were all her work.

"_I wasn't too bad,"_ she thought.

"Everything okay?" Ulysses chimed in, making her jump.

"Yeah," she replied softly, trailing off into the world in her head. An embroidered piece of cloth hung above the bed. She moved closer to read it.

"_Lilibeth Grace Summers; 30, October 2258"_


	9. Leaving

**I decided to do a little something different with this chapter. :3**

**Also, I have a poll open on my profile relating to an upcoming Fallout 3 fic! Please go and leave your opinion! It's much appreciated.**

* * *

It took a couple of hours for Lily to finally come to a full realization of where she was. She paced in her room, occasionally peeling wallpaper from the wall and twirling it between her fingertips before letting it flutter down to the hardwood floor. Slowly, she worked up the courage to begin sorting through things: cleaning, organizing, deciding what she wanted to keep and what she would sell or give away. She would give her teddy bears and dolls away to the children in the village, except for the most beaten of the bunch. She decided she'd fix him up and keep him to herself.

Ulysses sat in an old chair, sipping a beer as he thumbed through books a papers. Children's books, repair manuals, pages of old encyclopedias with notes and drawings scribbled in the margins. Quirky, stylized animals, dress designs, scrolls with lettering. He picked up another thick book from the self. The paper cover was covered in the same drawings and lettering. He opened, and then quickly closed it.

"Lily," he grunted.

"Hmm?"

"This is yours. Didn't read it."

"Why—oh. Oh! Oh my God."

The male courier passed the book to her carefully. She traced the little drawings and lettering that read, "_Journal; KEEP OUT."_

* * *

_17, November 2273_

_A caravan came into town today. They brought the usual supplies: ammunition, weapons parts, hides, strange fruits and ingredients. And guns. Lots of guns. I almost have enough caps saved up to buy a rifle. The one I have my eye on is badly damage, but I'm sure I can fix it up enough to be functional. Mom thinks it silly that I want a gun so young, but hey, I'm going to need to know how to protect myself once I leave this place._

_20, November 2273_

_I've been working at Horatio's shop, trying to scrounge a few more caps. It keeps me busy, and I don't have to help around the house during the day. He lets me run the register while he files paperwork for new shipments of supplies. We mostly sell ammunition and gardening products. It's boring, but he pays me in caps and sodas. Sometimes, he sneaks cigarettes into my bag. Hah: I'd be dead if either of my parents knew about that._

_26, November 2273_

_Well, I have my own rifle now. It's in worse condition that I originally thought. I might have to ask Dad for help with this. He always knows what he's doing. I mean, he actually got that car in the front yard running for a few minutes. Scared the neighbors pretty badly too. I still can't stop laughing at the thought of the look on their faces. _

_I am one step closer to leaving here._

_1, December 2273_

_It is fucking cold. Mom has had the fireplace going all day, but it doesn't reach my room. It never snows though. I want to see snow so bad. Another caravan came through. I talked to the merc guarding it for a while. They had been attacked by some rogues over in Hopeville. Legion, I think. Who would fucking do that? Just . . . attack a caravan and not take anything of use? Just to be assholes? The merc said that they were slavers, and he showed me some of the gear he'd salvaged from their corpses. Crazies, if you ask me. I guess they're trying to copy ancient Roman soldiers. I'll personally put a bullet between their eyes if I see any. No one is going to ransack this village. _

_14, December 2273_

_We have frost on the windows. I repeat: frost on the windows. This is so cool. _

_A group of couriers came into town today with mail and packages. Dad talked to one of them for quite a while. He was really, really interesting and seemed to know a lot. Kinda cute too . . . that's not important though. What is important is that these people do exactly what I want to do. They're like explorers of a different breed. They're armed to the teeth and just over-all badasses. I want danger. It calls to me._

_2, January 2274_

_New year. I am so much closer to getting out of here. I can feel it. Dad's taught me a lot about defending myself. He bought me a revolver! Mom is getting worried about me though. I think she wants me to stay. I just can't. It's so . . . dead here. And those crazy men who tried to sack the village on Christmas Eve, I can't be here. I took some of them down from my window. I honestly think I'll be safer outside of the town. Slavers don't really pick on wanderers anyhow, do they? _

_3, March 2274_

_It's been awhile since I've had the time to sit down and write. Some soldiers came into town from . . . New California? There were rangers too, in full regalia. It sure was a site to see. They've set up camp in tents on the outskirts of town. I can see the fires from the front window. I guess it's a bit comforting. I don't have to have my gun propped up and pointing out the window at night. Mom and Dad are pretty happy with the situation now. Hopefully we won't encounter any more attempts at raiding the village. _

_31, March 2274_

_The courier, Ulysses, came back today. He and Dad spent some time in the garage. I managed to eavesdrop a bit, but it was obvious. Neither cared. I spent my time within the wiring of an old radio, studying its components. They were talking about the Mojave. Nevada, I think. And the NCR and Legion. I heard Dad tell him about how I was planning to leave once I turn eighteen. At least, that's what he thinks._

_24, April 2274_

_Well, he hasn't left yet. I actually got to talk with him. Oh dear Lord, he is just the most intelligent man I have ever met. He's just . . . ugh. I don't even know how to describe it. Like, my stomach just felt awful the whole time we were speaking. He's definitely not some hick from Butt-Fuck Nowhere. I guess he was part of a tribe? Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm infatuated._

_19, May 2274_

_I've been discretely packing supplies. Neither of them know. That's good. I feel bad. Just a bit though. I'm not even afraid of what lies past the Divide. Geckos, Nightstalkers, Deathclaws . . . I've seen them all. They're nothing more than flys to me now: annoyances. Much like the people in this town. Well, most of them. The whole place is fucked. I at least hope my parents have enough sense to get up and leave._

_13, August 2274_

_This is my last entry. I'm leaving. Tonight. Ulysses told me last week that a place called the Mojave Express is hiring couriers. I have my guns, canteen, food rations, ammo, and extra clothing._

_Mom and Dad, if you read this: I'm sorry for leaving on such short notice. I'm searching for something so much more than what I have now. You've done nothing wrong. I'll write home to you._

_If the town gets sacked: I will find and kill whoever is the culprit. My name is Lily Summers. Age fifteen. Born 15, October._

* * *

Lily closed her old journal and threw it on the floor in disgust. The impact created a small cloud of dust, pages fluttering and falling out.

"Ulysses, if you ever, _ever_ read that past the first page, I will destroy you."

He snickered, "What? Did you write about me?"

"No."


	10. History

**Decided to do another flash-back. Also, Lily doesn't piss around with computers.**

* * *

_Days of walking through ruins and caves and the hives of strange creatures had taken their toll on Lily. She didn't even want to think about the Marked Men: their skin torn off and hanging from their bodies, dried and peeling like an orange. The shredded skin was not a result from any radiation burns or ghoulification. It was the sandstorms that plagued the area, beating against their weakened epidermises enough to grate them away. _

_She was now faced with a decision: confront the man who'd been chiding and taunting her, or turn around and never come back. She'd thought of just forgetting about him numerous times. But she couldn't sleep. His voice haunted her mind. It lingered with her in every cautious step she took._

_No. She couldn't turn back. _

_So much effort had gone into finding Ulysses. And there she was, standing so close to the missile silo that had been dubbed his "temple," along with the little eye-bot that had accompanied her throughout her journey. Buzzing, beeping, and possibly terrified. Ulysses would take him away again and he'd never reach Navarro. This bothered Lily more than anything. Sure, being attached to a machine was petty and stupid at most, but, he'd saved her more than once. She wouldn't let him be destroyed or manipulated any further._

_Surrounded by cold metal and the screeching of a siren, she ran through the bunker's halls as quickly as possible. The barrel of her rifle smacked against the back of her thigh, yet she continued onward despite the strange sensation it was leaving._

_Turn left._

_Left again._

_Right._

_Down the stairs._

_She ignored the clanking of the metal the best she could without becoming nauseous. _

_Elevator. She pressed the button and threw herself in. Slow, she ascended in the steel box with her little robot friend. He sensed her distress and beeped sympathetically. Lily wasn't ready for this, but she just felt like she had to. She had to run out of luck eventually. Slowly, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Before her, the Old World flag hung: his flag. It was nearly the same as the markings she'd seen throughout the Divide. The ground shuddered beneath her, and before her eyes, a missile rose up from it's grave, facing the sky._

_"__Shit," she mumbled as she tossed her bag and rifle to the ground. Armed with only her pistol, she moved toward the the man overshadowed by the missile. "Ulysses."_

_"__Courier," he blurted in a disgusted, husky tone. He turned to face her, standing high on a platform. Half his face was covered with a respirator. All Lily could see, and focus on, were his piercing grey eyes. "Mustered up the strength to find me?"_

_She remained silent, arms tense at her sides, hands balled into fists with her fingernails cutting into her palms._

_"__Come to pay for what you did?"_

_"__Just do it! Kill me already, won't you?! I didn't come here for you to fucking taunt me!" she shouted, shaking and scared, lump in her throat._

_"__No. I want you to understand why, and how—"_

_"__This again?! I fucking can't! Don't you understand!? Do you see this?! I was shot in my fucking head! I'm so sorry for whatever I did here: I wish I could just . . . fix everything, but I can barely remember what I did yesterday! I don't even know who I am half of the time! I'm just so confused and you're not making this any easier on me so just get it over with so you can go on your merry way! Or at least try, damn it!"_

_She caught Ulysses completely off his guard. Here before him, stood a fragile, distraught creature that he selfishly lured to him, like a hunter luring a deer. At this point, he didn't know what to do. _

_Could she really not remember a single thing about what had happened? _

_About their history? _

_Her history? _

_Arms folded, he walked down the steps, not taking his eyes off the lanky girl once. He stopped a few feet from her._

_"__Courier—Lily, in a few minutes, this place will be swarmed by the Marked. In the event you killed me, I decided to leave the locks disengaged. Perhaps you wouldn't be able to take them on. Go pick up your gun: we'll fight them off. Okay?"_

_She nodded and obeyed though she was still afraid of the man who loomed over her. Swiftly, she picked up her gun and swung her bag over her shoulder. Within minutes the silo's defenses were breached and the melting men filed in, guns blazing. The two couriers propped their guns up behind a control panel and began to off the old soldiers the Eye-Bots couldn't deal with. Every time Ulysses moved, Lily flinched. She didn't have time to analyze her situation or the actions of her targets. She felt so nervous and alienated. She thought about possibly killing the man beside her. _

_Focus._

_Point and shoot. She tried to lower her heartbeat. Nothing worked. She missed more and more with each shot. In a futile attempt and a suicide mission, she tossed her rifle to the side and pulled her pistol. Quickly she stood and popped rounds into the grotesque men. She managed to bring down five or six of them before her male counterpart noticed and pulled her back down behind their barrier._

_"__What do you think you're doing?!" he scolded._

_"__I can't aim properly with that right now. You're fucking terrifying and making me nervous."_

_He snorted, "Stay down."_

_"__No. Cover me," she scrambled back over the control panel, firing straight into the barrage of men. Once again, Ulysses grabbed her around her waist and pulled her back over._

_"__Quit it. If anyone is going to kill you, it will be me, and I'm not planning on doing that at the moment. Stay down."_

_"__Fuck you, I'll tear your lungs out first," she snapped, lobbing a grenade over her head. She heard the bodies running toward them shred into pieces. She remained low while Ulysses finished the stragglers. Before long, Lily found herself digging through the soldiers' pockets. He hadn't shot her yet, or stabbed her, or incinerated her, blown her up, or ripped her arms off. "What now?"_

_"__Focus on the missile. Can't stop it."_

_"__That's bloody helpful," she said sarcastically, growing a bit more brave, "What should I do?"_

_"__Fire it. Have the machine stop it. It'd be destroyed consequently," her male counterpart said. He was planning on destroying everything she loved, but now, he placed the decision in her hands, just as he'd done before: let her destroy Hopeville and give her a taste of what she couldn't remember._

_Foolish._

_She sighed, "No, it won't."_

_She maneuvered her way to the launch terminal and typed away, acquiring access codes, terminal passwords, and the like. The little Eye-Bot watched over her shoulder. She motioned him to zap the terminal itself a few times in between her vigorous typing. It seemed relatively unharmed. Perhaps she was using the ED-E model to access only certain parts of the encrypted database. With a few more keystrokes, she left the terminal. The little machine was still buzzing away, playing more clips from that movie it was encoded with._

_"__What did you do?" Ulysses pryed._

_"__Cancelled it."_

_"__Wha—how?"_

_"__Ashton."_

_With a simple nod, he replied, "You at least learned something from this."_

_"__I guess. I just want to go home."_

_"__You are."_

_"__No. I'm not. I live in Novac"_

"Can't believe I'm doing this,"_he thought, and then stated, "I'll take you back."_

_"__I don't trust you. I can find my own way back, thank you."_

_"__Don't trust you either. Won't hurt you though."_

_Lily groaned, "Fine. I'll follow you. But, if you try anything, you will lose your hands."_

_"__Fine."_


	11. Ocean

**Possible trigger warning.**

* * *

"I've always wanted to see the ocean. I've heard so much about it from the Rangers. Have you been out that way, Ulysses?" Lily rolled onto her back, holding a magazine high above her. It slipped from her hands and fell on her face, making her flinch. She picked it back up and returned to the page she was on.

"No," he said flatly, observing the courier who was splayed out on the living room floor.

Uncoordinated—most of the time.

When she stretched, her shirt would lift just above her bellybutton, showing off her lightly tanned skin, dotted with freckles that could be connected to form a constellation. Her side was decorated with a large burn scar. He thought of asking about it, but resisted in an attempt to keep a distance from her. She had asked him earlier if they could travel, and he denied her. Being in her presence was like catering to a child. She was fidgety and always wanted to do something new. At one point, she spent an hour wondering if she could dive into the river at the bottom of the canyon and survive. She had even drawn up plans for a suit and parachute.

"You know, you're holding me hostage in the very place I wanted to escape," she had replied. It pained him. All the work of luring her, capturing her, letting her go, and seeing her return on her own will were for nothing. She didn't want to be there. But, she hadn't said that she didn't want to be in his company. This eased his mind a bit. She didn't want to leave him: she just wanted to leave the place they now resided, at least for a time: until she was ready.

"Ulysses?"

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice Lily was sitting now, staring up at him, her eyes wide. They seemed to be filled with a liquid universe. He grunted, "What?"

"Please? Can we go?"

He mumbled, "No."

Lily sighed and stood up, leaving her magazine on the floor. Ulysses payed no attention as she walked to her room, slamming the door behind her like a disgruntled pre-teen. He took a long drink from the whiskey bottle on the coffee table and picked up the magazine to examine what she'd been reading. Nothing. Just photos of rolling waves, a beach made of colored sea glass, and families flying kites. He placed it on top of the stack his companion had made. She was serious: she really wanted to see the vast expanses of water. He considered it for a second, but brushed it off. She'd already been to Lake Mead. Wasn't that enough? Maybe, he'd take her in the future. It was miles and miles away. He didn't know if any NCR would notice him as a former Legionnaire. Then again, he always slipped under their radar. He wasn't about to let Lily fester in her room for the rest of her life, or until he died. He walked carefully toward her room. Slowly and carefully, the male courier cracked the door just enough to slip through. Lily was sprawled on her bed, one leg hanging off the side, arm covering her eyes.. She looked numb: dead.

"Lily?"

She grunted in response, annoyed. She kicked her leg impatiently, wanting him to leave her alone.

"I—uh," he paused, sitting in the chair by the bookshelf, "What happened to your side?"

He winced, feeling dumb. She didn't like talking about any of her scars. She wanted to forget. Ironically, she wanted to remember as well. She was a walking contradiction.

"Fiend with a flamethrower. I went after him because he raped one of my friends. What happened to your neck, and your arms? Oh, same thing, minus tribal scarification: burns. You're bluffing. What do you really want?" she snapped, sitting up and folding her legs.

"This is so _stupid_," he groaned, rubbing his temples and accepting defeat, "Is there anywhere closer you want to go? Ocean's far from here . . . just want to lay low for a while."

"I—I don't know," she replied, suddenly very interested. "Where is there to go? I just want

to get out and do something. What about Yosemite?"

"Fine. Half the distance, at least. We can leave when you're ready."

Without any warning, Lily flew from her bed and wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered a "thank you" into his ear. He didn't even have time to react to this action before she bounded toward the front room, insistent on gathering her supplies immediately. She ran back in to grab her bag. Her hair flung around as she stuffed items into it: comb, extra clothing, her teddy bear. Frivolous things she could do without but felt the need to have. He hid his curious stares by skimming through a book. He'd never really seen her so animated, outside of the few fights he'd gotten into with her and her massacring anything standing in her way. The waistband of her jeans dipped low, revealing an obvious tan line, skin transitioning from sun-kissed to ghostly white. She had dimples on her lower back, a short string of words tattooed on her left hip, illegible from the distance he sat. She was moving too quickly anyhow. There would be time to ask later.

Ulysses couldn't help but feel slightly intoxicated by the cinnamon scent radiating from her body, and her breath tickling him, the grin on her face . . . even the very brief sensation of her skin brushing his: it was all something he never thought he'd enjoy, and want to experience again, maybe more than a few times. Daily, if he could help it. It could have been the whiskey: after all, he could only pay attention to the way she moved. But, there was so much more to her than atoms and molecules. Most days he wanted to strangle her, break her down, make her suffer. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to it. She was just far too important to him, whether he'd admit it to himself or not. She could pry into his mind, get answers out of him, make him come to terms with his past, at least for a time. She was the embodiment of his past.

She was his history.

* * *

**This is finally getting somewhere! Ugh, yes. I also have the epilogue to a brand new fic that I'm writing for the Fallout Kink meme published.**


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